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By contrast, the Muslim cafeteria across the courtyard had a terrific, inexpensive chicken hot pot. It came in a sizable black cast iron pot and was brimming with chunks of chicken, taro, lotus root, and noodles. It was delicious, nutritious, and inexpensive. When I first discovered it, the small lady who cooked the soups wasn’t busy. She worked over a black hot plate, roughly 4 to 5 feet wide, with a long pair of tongs to move the bubbling hot pots as they cooked. It was a tough job. The hot plate was hot and the hot pots were heavy.

By the time I left Chengdu, she had been discovered by the students. Suddenly, there was a continual lineup at her booth, and she toiled to meet demand. By that point, I started to sympathize with her neighbour in the next booth who looked bored and dejected. The neighbour’s dish, a less glamourous chicken soup with noodles and peas, was also inexpensive and nutricious. It was perfect when I wrestled the occasional cold.

After two weeks in Chengdu, Helen had me settled in and returned home. I turned my attention to classes. Everything involving my student life was located in the dorm for foreigners. The classes and department office were located on the second floor while my room was on the top floor, the eighth. I endeavoured to get into the Kham dialect class. It was easy to shuttle down by elevator to talk to the office staff in person but getting into the class, however, was a challenge. Prior to leaving Canada, I had tried to enroll by email but hadn’t had any luck. The office took a long time to respond, and it wasn’t clear if it was possible to enroll. It also wasn’t clear if there was even a class to enroll in. This remained one of my ongoing questions throughout my time in Chengdu. I succeeded however in getting into Modern Chinese classes and resigned myself to this as it appeared there were no Kham dialect classes that fall.